


Inspection Time

by Mossgreen



Series: 2770 ab urbe condita [31]
Category: 2770 ab urbe condita - Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Rome, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, Master/Slave, Medical Examination, Non-Sexual Slavery, Objectification, Sexual Slavery, Situational Humiliation, Slavery, Spanking, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-23 06:59:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16153979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mossgreen/pseuds/Mossgreen
Summary: It's time for the annual inspections by the Bureau of Slave Administration, and the Imperial Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Slaves (better known as SIPAS). This has not put Ven's master into the best mood.Please note the tags; if anything in those bothers you, feel free to skip reading this story.





	Inspection Time

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe a week or so before In Conversation - first time I've posted out of chronological order, oops!
> 
> I've rated this 'mature' because the sex occurs in private, between two people and is right at the end and I haven't particularly gone into detail - not that I really do anyway. If you don't want to read it, stop at the second set of stars * * *

Master was not in the best of moods. Ven poured his coffee silently, ate his own breakfast as silently as he could, keeping down and out of the way as much as possible, while still keeping an eye on his master to see to any demands or requests.

It was interesting, eating his own breakfast at the same time; he had been used to eating before his master, back when he was just a house-slave, ready to stand and serve without the distraction of serving while eating. Maybe he should suggest, delicately, going back to eating separately – although that was not a suggestion he was prepared to make right now, with his master in a mood that threatened dire things if he were crossed.

Ven knew what the cause was, of course. Today was the day that SIPAS and the Bureau were to make their annual inspection of the house and slaves. Technically, the SIPAS inspection was twice a year and the Bureau's yearly, but Master was in good standing with SIPAS and they had reduced it to an annual inspection. This was, though, the first inspection they had performed since Ven had been promoted to his master's _concubīnus_ , and he was not looking forward to it; it was bound to be far more thorough (especially as far as he was concerned), as well as leaving his master in a mood.

There _were_ ways to mitigate his master's moods, of course, if he were permitted to offer them. 

And it was not often that SIPAS and the Bureau co-ordinated their inspections to reduce the disruption in a particular household. Senators, naturally, had co-ordinated inspections, and some high-ranking businesspeople. Master, being a patrician and a prominent citizen and business owner, was also on that list, and Ven could only breathe a sigh of relief that his master was not going to be thrown into this sort of bad temper more than once a year.

The slave quarters had been the focus of this week's cleaning and tidying far more than the master's part of the house (although of course that had not been allowed to be neglected). Ven had noticed, with some slight amusement, that the _lararium_ had been especially looked after this morning; the offering for the household gods was no mere slice of bread but a whole individual honey-cake; and there were fresh flowers in the vase. Ven wasn't the only one who was nervous about today, it seemed, and wondered if it was Willow who had taken this morning's devotional duty.

It probably was; he was not the sort to leave prayers to anyone else on a day like today, not when anything that went wrong would ultimately be his fault.

All the slaves were in clean tunics this morning, and of course today was a full toga day for the master; he was from an ancient patrician family and was not about to appear any less dignified than need be. This was his house, and he was going to remind everyone in it of the _dignitas_ and _gravitas_ of a true Roman. 

Willow had gathered all the slaves together in their hallway to brief them; they were to go about their daily duties as much as possible, but were to answer any questions put to them to the best of their ability. "I will do my best to stop them invading your kitchen, Grumio, but even the master will think twice about setting foot in there when you're in the middle of something."

" _He's_ got a healthy dose of common sense. The gods know if the same can be said of anyone else!"

"Ven, you're to attend the master as usual. Just be prepared in case they want to speak with you – SIPAS might bring a doctor with them this time, although they haven't for a while."

Ven tried not to groan.

"Petrus, just listen... Petrus.... _Petrus_!"

Chrestus nudged the door-keeper in the side. 

"Eh? What? What's that, young whipper-snapper?" He fiddled with his ear.

Willow grinned. "Fine. I _know_ you don't like them, but at least wait until they're in the house before you turn your hearing-aid off. Everyone else, Petrus will be deaf today. If you need him, use the intercom system to his cubbyhole. But you'd better _really_ need him, he's deaf and grumpy while these people are around."

He glanced back at his notes. "Everyone else, be polite, as you would to any of the master's guests. Icarus, we'll do our best to keep them from walking across your lawn – they will probably want to look at the playroom, so there's no way to keep them from crossing the garden. Try not to mind them poking around our part of the house. Word of warning: If there is anything you really do _not_ want them to find, hide it – I suggest shoving it right at the back in one of the box-rooms. I am not about to ask why you might have anything like that, but please _lose_ it, at least for now – especially with Bureau people around. And not under your mattress, either – I've seen some bright spark of an inspector decide to turn mattresses over before now. Right. Junio and Moss are on duty in the atrium. If anyone needs me, use the intercom."

He held up his hand, showing the smart-watch in his wristband. "I know you folks don't think I use this, but I use it far more than you might realise. And if Ven brings you a message from the master, do what he says _immediately_ – I can guarantee that the master will be in a foul mood, and while he won't punish you when he's angry, you don't want to push it. Right, duties, everyone – PETRUS!! Turn that back on until they've arrived, _please_! For my sanity's sake, at least."

* * *

The inspectors arrived in a gaggle, keeping in two distinct groups despite arriving at the same time. Master greeted them, although they weren't here to see him, and retreated to his study in a brown funk, leaving Willow to deal with the inspection.

There were already raised voices; someone seemed to be trying to talk to Petrus, and getting nowhere fast.

"Wipe that grin off your face," Master told Ven, and threw his pen down. "Pluto take it. I'm not going to get a thing done with that lot around – you may as well go and help Willow out. If anything needs to be done, take a note of it – and send someone in here with a jug of wine, I think I may need it."

"Yes, Master." Ven debated for a second whether to open the sliding screens that stood between the _tablīnum_ and the garden colonnade... except that directly across the garden from the study was the playroom, and Ven was fairly sure that the SIPAS people would want to see that. The Bureau people would want to check the security measures and make sure that all the slaves' records in the database were up to date. Which meant that they, at least, would probably want to speak to Master.

He'd be taking his life in his hands if he said anything, but... Oh, Demeter. "Master, I beg pardon for pointing out that the citizens from the Bureau..."

"Oh, Mars on a motorbike. Coffee then, and make it a strong one!"

"Yes, Master!"

He vanished to the kitchen, returning with a tray bearing a carafe of double-strength espresso, with milk and sugar on the side. 

"Whereabouts are they?"

Ven poured a cup and set it by his master's hand. "Just inside the door of the slave quarters, Master, having a fearful row about the cage."

"The Bureau says I have to have one, SIPAS thinks they're a liability in case of fire. It's far bigger than the minimum requirements. This happens every time – I swear to Jupiter I'm going to insist on two separate days next year."

Ven's face was blank; his master said that every year, and every year he ended up agreeing to them coming on the same day, apparently forgetting the headache they caused.

There was a knock at the study door. Junio stood there, looking apologetic, with a togaed citizen hovering behind him. "Master, this citizen is requesting to see the slave records for your household."

Master's smile was as fake as Ven's own lack of expression. Ven stepped back, attempting to merge into the furniture. Theoretically, the Bureau staff did not need Master's permission to check the records, but it was nice enough of them to ask. 

"Indeed." Master indicated that the citizen take a seat in the atrium, which was cooler, before sending Junio for refreshments. His own coffee would keep hot in the carafe, for a while, though Ven would probably ending up pouring it away and bringing fresh once Master had dealt with this administrative issue. "Ven, my tablet."

"Yes, Master." Ven brought it out and ended up being reduced to a book-stand, holding it so that both his master and the Bureau employee could see the screen. This sort of role was one he had played many times over the years, for his previous master, although he was taller now than he'd been then. Some things never left you, and he automatically took the best position for them both to see, keeping his fingers away from the touch-screen.

He kept his expression blank, though his eyes flickered down to the inspector's face when his own name was mentioned. "The slave Ven – you couldn't have given him a proper name, could you? He's, what? Your secretary and your _concubīnus_ and a demonstration model?"

"The people would like to see the products that my company sells actually in use before they decide to spend hard-earned money," Master pointed out, dryly. Ven kept his eyes on the wall behind them; that was not _all_ that the good citizens of the Empire liked to see, when it came to Master's demonstrations. "I saw no need to change his name, either. I understand it's British."

"Well, well, as you please. I see he's had regular check-ups for STDs since taking that role. Good, good – and we've issued a travel permit for him recently, is that correct?"

"Yes."

Junio returned with a tray at this point, setting it down on the table and pouring drinks for both the inspector and the master before resuming his position by the wall, waiting for orders.

"Which one is Willow?"

"My majordomo – the one conducting the tour."

"Ah. And you've owned him...?"

Master tapped at the screen. "Since he was fifteen. He's been my majordomo for five years now."

"He's authorised to purchase slaves on your behalf?"

"Up to the value of six thousand sestertii. The most recent purchase was Moss."

Ven tuned the discussion out. Acting as a book-stand didn't particularly bother him, no more than acting as any other piece of furniture – a towel-rail in the bath-house, for instance. It was one of the things required of slaves from time to time; even the SIPAS inspectors made no comment when they came back into the atrium.

One of the SIPAS people cleared his throat, and the master looked up. 

"We would like our doctor to examine the slave Ven, in view of... the uses you put him to," one of them said.

"Very well. Junio! You may take over from Ven. Ven, you may take the doctor to the playroom. You will co-operate fully with him – I will be along shortly."

"Yes, Master."

Ven handed the tablet to his fellow-slave, and turned to the group of SIPAS inspectors. One of them – a man in his late forties or early fifties – detached himself from the group. He was accompanied by a slave who seemed to be in his late teens.

"Useful," the doctor said, looking around the room, and indicating to the slave with him to put his bag on the table where Master usually lay out his own implements. "Not sterile, of course, but no actual examination room is, either. Right. You, Ven. Strip, and sit down on the bench there. Paulus, my _tabula_ – make sure it's set to record."

The slave clipped something – a microphone – to his master's tunic collar and stepped back.

"The slave Ven, property of Drusus Varius Metellus. Reason for the exam: employment as a _concubīnus_ and as a demonstration model for tools and practices of the organisation Phallusy. Are there any allergies noted in his record, Paulus?"

"No, Master."

"Good. Open your mouth, boy."

Ven did so, and the doctor shone a light inside to look at his teeth. "Teeth look all in good condition, but I am no dentist. Still, I don't think I need recommend a dental check-up beyond the regular one. Close your mouth. Turn your head. Hmm. Right ear seems fine – other side. No problems there."

He bounced a small rubber hammer off Ven's knees, first one and then the other, causing him to kick out. "Reflexes are fine. How often do you kneel, boy, and for how long at a time? Do you have any padding, or do you kneel on the bare floor?"

"During Master's business meetings, sir. I have a cushion now, but it used to be the floor. Ah. If Master wishes to address the full complement of household staff, sir, we kneel then – without padding. And at any other times he wishes – with padding. Never more than an hour without a break, and always with a cushion if it's that long."

"Hmm. Look at me."

He reached for a pen-light and shone it in Ven's eyes, first one, then the other. 

"Nothing to worry about there. Stethoscope, Paulus."

Ven tried not to shiver as the cold metal touched his chest. 

"Do try to breathe normally, boy. Heart and lungs seem fine. Piercings have healed well – are they recent?"

"Yes, sir."

"Professionally done?"

"Um... Master did them, sir."

"Right. Stand up, legs apart, hands behind your head."

Ven did so, and glanced at the doorway, relaxing a little as his master stepped into the room and took a seat on the reading couch in the corner. The doctor pulled on a pair of latex gloves, and reached to remove the harness Ven wore before cupping his balls, weighing them carefully in his hand and massaging them gently, rolling them and feeling for any irregularities. Ven closed his eyes as he grew hard.

"Does he wear the harness all the time, sir?"

"Yes. Is there a problem with that?"

"No, though I recommend removing it overnight. His balls are healthy enough, though, and there is no sign of a herniation."

The doctor's hand moved to Ven's prick, moving it so that he could see all sides of it, and sliding the foreskin back before swabbing it. "His prick seems to be healthy, too, though we'll have to wait for the lab results to confirm that. Turn around, boy, bend over – put your forearms on the bench here."

Ven obeyed, spreading his legs and trying not to mind that he was exposed to the view of people other than just his master – even during a recording session, he could try to pretend it was just him and his master, because there was nobody else there.

"Does he always wear a plug, sir?"

"Yes."

"Well, you know what you're doing there, I dare say – just don't make him wear one that's too heavy for too long."

"Of course."

"Thermometer, Paulus."

There was a hand firm on his lower back, the plug was pulled out and then the thermometer was pushed into his arse. "Clench around that, don't drop it, boy."

It was cold, and slim, and Ven did his best to obey, certain that his face was scarlet. At least this time he could drop his head and hide his face.

"How often is he punished, sir, and how do you punish him?"

"Not very often. Usually a flogging or paddling, with something like this." Ven heard his master get up and cross the room to where the implements were kept, each hung from a hook by a leather loop.

"Ah, I see. No, that won't do him any harm - I'm sure you're aware of potential bruising and how to treat it."

"Of course." Master sat down again.

The thermometer was pulled out. "His temperature looks fine, you'll be glad to know. Paulus, clean that off. Right, boy, I'm going to put my finger in you."

He didn't, right away, but took time to look at Ven's hole, pulling his cheeks apart.

"There's nothing obvious there, no tearing or fissuring, which is good." There was the familiar sound of a pump-action bottle, and then a hand on Ven's lower back as a single finger pressed itself to the ring of muscle and eased itself in, the slide aided by lube.

It was a familiar feeling, yet not, at the same time; it had been a while since his master had teased his arse like this – and this wasn't his master anyway. The finger pushed in all the way, before slowly twisting round, checking everything inside.

"Good, that's all fine."

It eased forward a little and pressed against his prostate. Ven caught his lip between his teeth before realising what he was doing. He tried to distract himself by wondering whether the doctor was this impersonal with every slave, and then reasoned that even the SIPAS doctors were free – a slave couldn't get a medical practitioner's licence – and they must see enough cases of abuse that taking the impersonal route was likely to be a self-defence mechanism. And even SIPAS wasn't one of those groups pushing for total abolition; they were on a level with the animal cruelty prevention organisations, and none of them had ever said people shouldn't have pets. Which made the doctor the equivalent of a vet.

And that hadn't helped at all; Ven's prick was still hard, and the touches to his prostate only encouraged it to remain so.

The finger eased its way back out, leaving him empty as the doctor straightened up. 

"Right, you can get dressed now, boy," he said, pulling his gloves off. "He's got a clean bill of health, sir – I doubt he'll require another check-up from us, so long as his medical records are kept up to date, and I don't think you'll let that slip."

"There's a bin there for the gloves, and Junio will show you to where you can wash your hands. Ven, wait there as you were."

Ven closed his eyes. There were sounds of things being put away, and then three sets of footsteps (one of them very faint; the slaves were all barefoot in the house) retreating along the colonnade back towards the atrium and the latrines.

"Hmm. I think we'll have this one in you this time," Master said. There was the sound of the lube bottle again, and Ven's arse was again breached, this time with a plastic toy, a fake cock fatter around than his master's prick, but with the groove and base of a butt-plug so that it would not fall out once properly seated. He teased Ven with it, thrusting it in and out a little, twisting it, playing with it, until it was pushed firmly in. Once fully inserted, Master gave the base of it a firm tap.

"Straighten up and we'll put your harness back on." That was done in a matter of seconds and Master crossed back to the wall where the various implements were. He took down a couple of paddles and passed them to Ven. 

"Take these to my room and then return to the study. There is still work to be done this afternoon, we've lost enough time already. I think they must be done soon, and I will join you once they have left – in the meantime, you can begin typing up the report that's on my desk."

"Yes, Master."

The inspectors _were_ done soon, although not as soon as Master might have liked.

"That's that done for another year," Master said, coming in and sitting down behind his desk. "Damned interfering busybodies."

"Yes, Master."

"It would never have happened in the old days, people wandering into a citizen's home to see how his own property is treated."

"No, Master." Ven's tone was neutral, despite his own standing - or lack of it! - as part of the property in question. His master might not abuse his slaves, but plenty of masters _would_ – and still did, if they could get away with it – and who knew how many slaves had been rescued thanks to such inspections.

"How's that report coming along?"

"I've nearly finished it, Master." He hadn't dared mess around and procrastinate; Master's temper was near enough to breaking as it was without added 'laziness' or 'insolence' on Ven's part, although the stiff plastic cock inside him hadn't helped his concentration.

"Good. Is that coffee still hot?"

"I doubt it, Master."

"Gods damn it." He touched the intercom button, and Moss appeared in the door a moment later, to be sent for a fresh pot of coffee.

* * *

The evening meal was kept simple today; Master had no friends to dine and the whole household was content just to let the day draw to a close. Ven's duties had not ended with _cena_ , however.

Even while the table was being cleared, Master had leaned back in his chair, looking at his bed-slave. "Ven. Go to my room, strip and bend over the bed."

"Yes, Master."

He was not waiting for long, his head resting next to the two paddles he had left there earlier, before his master entered the room, closing the door behind him.

There was the soft _whumph_ of wool, a lot of it, hitting the floor, and Ven tried not to sigh; Master wasn't going to be the one picking that toga up and trying to set it to rights.

Master sat down in his chair across the room with a sigh far more audible than Ven's had been. He extended a foot, indicating Ven should remove his sandals. Ven did so, setting them aside and remaining on his knees, looking up for his next instruction.

"Right, over my lap, pet. I'm just in the mood to fuck a nice warm arse this evening."

Ven arranged himself over his master's lap, his head down and his arse up and tried not to mind the position, even as his master's hand cupped his buttocks, stroking and smoothing.

"You do have the most luscious bum," his master said, and slapped it. "All the time the doctor was examining you, I just imagined doing this once he'd left. Don't bother counting."

Another caress, another smack, a caress again. The smacks at first began as gentle taps but soon graduated to actual slaps, falling one after another with barely a brief caress between them. Ven clenched his hands, trying not to kick, but it felt as though it would never stop. His master might be able to alternate which hand he used, but he was not slowing, nor were the smacks growing any softer.

"Such a pretty bum. I want it a nice deep pink before I stop," his master said. "Sob as much as you like, let it out, I'm going to keep doing this until it is a nice dark shade all over."

Ven had been crying already, silent tears running down his face, and breathing raggedly, but couldn't help the sob that came at his master's words, until he was sobbing properly. It wasn't a punishment, he had nothing to feel apologetic or remorseful about, but he was tired and frustrated and embarrassed by earlier and it hurt – his bum felt so hot, and he wouldn't be sitting tomorrow, he was sure of that.

"Please... please... please... I'm sorry... please..."

It felt like forever before his master said, "There we go," and stopped hitting him, running his hand all over Ven's sore tender arse, soothing.

"Such a very pretty red – we should do this more often. I am going to enjoy fucking this bum. On the bed, pet, hands and knees – fold the covers out of the way first. Clean your face up – there's a box of tissues on the night-stand."

Ven moved to the bed, taking the time to wipe his eyes and blow his nose, discarding the tissues in the bin before positioning himself even as he heard his master's belt and tunic hit the floor.

The bed dipped behind him, there was the sound of a pump-action bottle and then the dildo inside his bum was pulled out. Two lubed fingers pressed themselves to his hole, pressing inside, making sure he was stretched, ready, and then the head of his master's prick was there, pushing in.

His master let out a sigh as he pressed all the way in, causing another sob to catch in Ven's throat as his master's groin and balls were pushed tight against his hot painful bum.

"Wriggle your bum, boy," Master said, beginning to thrust in earnest. Ven dropped his head, going to his elbows with his forearms flat on the bed and obeyed, pushing back to meet his master's invading prick. This was not how he preferred to get off, but his master liked it and his body was growing used to it, his own prick got hard despite himself these days, especially when his master did _that_.

"Oh, please... Master," he groaned, fisting his hands in the bedclothes, trying to control his reactions.

"In a little bit."

"Please... _please_...!"

In answer, his master merely thrust into him, hard, another two or three times before spilling deep inside, his prick buried in Ven's bum to the root, collapsing onto his slave and planting his mouth on his neck at the junction with his shoulder, biting and sucking hard enough to raise a dark purple mark that would be seen at the neck of his tunic.

"My good boy!"

Ven was so close, but could not get any more friction, any more sensation, and he whimpered, even though his master hadn't moved to withdraw. Instead, his master hooked a leg around Ven's legs, pulling him onto his side and spooning against him, his cock still deep inside him. 

"I don't think I'm going to pull out," his master told him, a dark whisper in Ven's ear. Instead he tangled his legs with Ven's, pulling them open and reaching for his balls, caressing them and rolling them in his hand in much the same way as the doctor had earlier.

"A very nice weight, these, just right for me to play with," his master said into his ear, his breath hot, his voice a parody of the doctor's clinical, matter-of-fact tone. "I can attest that the hole is fine, tight, but not too tight to fuck comfortably. As for the pretty prick," his hand moved to it as he spoke. "It is a very nice size, healthy and sensitive."

He unfastened the harness and began to move his hand on Ven's cock, to jerk him off. "Please, Master, I can't...!"

The hand slowed to a light tease. "Play with your nipples, boy."

Ven shifted his hands to obey, running his fingernails lightly over his sensitive nubs, pulling them a little. His breathing quickened as they hardened, and the hand on his cock grew firmer, stroking it again in long, slow, teasing strokes.

"Please, Master..."

"You won't come if you don't keep playing with your nipples. I expect you to keep teasing them all the way through your completion, pet," Master told him.

"Y... yes, Master."

They were so sensitive, especially with the piercings, and the hand on his prick was maddeningly light.

"Come when you can, boy," Master said eventually, thrusting a little against Ven's painfully red bum, reminding him of the prick still inside him, soft though it now was. "Keep those hands busy on those nipples or I will ruin your orgasm!"

Ven groaned, the need building in him until he came, spilling over his master's hand, which was brought to his mouth almost before he had recovered himself, to be licked clean.

"You know," Master said, firmly throwing his leg over Ven and pinning him to the bed. "I think, one day, I shall do a session focussing solely on your nipples. See just how much they can take. Won't that be fun."

 _No, not really_ , Ven thought, his breathing growing steadier, and slower as he grew sleepy, sated now and warmed by his master behind and over him. 

"As my master pleases," he said instead, diplomatically.

The covers were pulled over them, and Master's hand reached for the ring in Ven's right nipple. "Yes, I think that will be most enjoyable. Something to look forward to."

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:  
>  _concubīnus_ \- a male concubine or bed-slave  
>  _lararium_ \- the shrine for the household gods, the Lares and Penates.  
>  _dignitas_ \- dignity, worthiness  
>  _gravitas_ \- gravity, importance, seriousness  
>  _tablīnum_ \- office or study, usually open to the atrium on one side and the garden on the other.  
>  _tabula_ \- tablet. Originally meaning the wax writing tablet of the ancient world, it now refers to the modern computer tablet such as the iPad of our world.
> 
> SIPAS – Societās Imperātōrium Prohibēre Atrōcitae Servīs which translates back to English as the Imperial Society (or Alliance) to Prevent/Prohibit/Hinder Cruelty/Brutality to Slaves. (Latin has a far smaller vocabulary than English, therefore words that are synonyms in English are often translated to the same word in Latin.) I may not have declined the nouns correctly, but that's my stab at it, anyway. (This organisation was first mentioned in-universe in [Spare the Rod](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15867666).)


End file.
